


slow over the horizon

by Kisatsel



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: Beach Trip, Crooked era, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Polyamory, Texting, Tour Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-22 12:43:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14308875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisatsel/pseuds/Kisatsel
Summary: Lovett lay down on the lounger vacated by Corinne, draped his damp towel over himself and cracked open a Diet Coke from the cooler. The first sip was perfect. “I like Miami.”





	slow over the horizon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LilyRosePotter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyRosePotter/gifts).



> LilyRosePotter, I had a great time writing this OT3 and I hope you like this fic! Enormous thanks to everyone who read through various iterations of this fic and gave help and encouragement, and to the mods of this exchange, which has been fantastic!!
> 
> (please don't share this outside of fandom spaces! thank you! <3)

It was a good thing, Lovett reflected, that he, Jon and Tommy had years of practice at coping with being cooped up together by now. If they hadn't then between the cramped office with a broken AC and one bathroom, the grueling tour schedule and the fact that they voluntarily spent time together outside of work, they might have murdered each other by now.

“Who were the guests on my show last week?” he asked the van at large. “Travis, don’t answer, you were there. Elijah, you too.”

“I know this,” Corinne said smugly from behind him.

“Corinne, you booked the guests,” Lovett pointed out.

“Symone,” recited Elijah, who was sprawled out across two seats and glued to his phone. “Mitra Jouhari, Wesley Lowery. This quiz is too easy, man.”

“Well, it wasn’t addressed to you,” Lovett said. “I hear a conspicuous silence from a certain two team members.”

“That is the sound,” Jon said, “of two people ignoring you. You’d think you’d recognize it.”

They’d decided to fit in a trip to Miami Beach which meant they were back in the van, everyone’s favorite incubator for bad tempers.

Lovett kicked the back of his seat. “Wrong answer. Tommy’s coming to my show on Friday, right?”

“Nope,” Tommy said. “Sorry. Not your cheer squad.”

“Oh,” Lovett said. “My mistake. Big plans, then?”

“Three whole hours of solitude,” Tommy said earnestly.

“You want solitude, go join a monastery, Tommy. Trade in the pom poms for a cowl.”

Tommy was silent in response to this.

“That’s what a monk would do,” Lovett said to the back of Tommy’s seat. “A monk wouldn’t laugh at my jokes.”

“In that case,” Jon said, “count me in. I’m saying my prayers.”

Lovett dug his phone out of his pocket. _enjoy your life of celibacy_ , he sent to Jon.

He heard a loud exhale from the seat in front of him.

“What?” Tommy said.

“Oh, nothing,” Jon said. “Just Lovett.”

 _So what I’m getting from this is that you don’t actually want to come at all this week_ , appeared on his phone screen within a few seconds.

 _NON SEQUITUR_ , Lovett texted.  
_ILLOGICAL_  
_POSSIBLY UNCONSTITUTIONAL_

He shifted in his seat and fiddled with the seat belt to draw some slack in. Something told him it was best not to risk sending _you wouldn’t_ , because there was a tiny voice in his head that said that maybe Jon would. That this was exactly the kind of threat he would take great pleasure in making good on. The thought of it was extremely distracting.

“I love when he stops talking,” he heard Tommy say. Lovett gritted his teeth.

It was worth the bickering when they finally parked and stepped out and the warm air which hit their faces tasted of the sea.

Tommy and Jon's beach behavior was entirely predictable. As soon as they found their spot Tommy stripped down to his shorts, pulled out his towel and laid it out, stretched out his big, long, pale body, and pulled out a book with _THE DARK SIDE_ printed in capitals on the cover from his bag, because Tommy believed that the best and only thing to do at a beach was to work his way stubbornly through some heavy non-fiction, and report back later with details on the insidious forces doing damage to society.

“Enjoy your torture book, Tommy,” Lovett said, flicking sand onto Tommy’s ankle with his toes.

Meanwhile, Jon pushed his shades up and squinted out at the gleaming turquoise water, then looked around a little forlornly, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself here when he didn’t have his dog with him.

“Hey,” Lovett said to Jon, pulling his shirt over his head. He ignored Travis’s wolf whistle. “I’m going swimming, you coming?”

Jon stared at him. “Those are new,” he said, meaning Lovett’s purple swim shorts. Which were _fun_.

“Correct.”

Jon continued looking him up and down, the corner of his mouth turned up, like he was pleased that he got to stand there and do it and Lovett would let him. Lovett put up with ten more seconds, because he was generous at heart, and then set out towards the water, the wet sand scrunching pleasantly beneath his toes.

After a few seconds Jon caught up with him, and his hand brushed against Lovett’s as they walked. Lovett bumped his bare shoulder against Jon's side.

They waded steadily out; it was one of those endless, jam-packed beaches where it felt like you had to paddle out for miles before the water came up to your chest. “Hey, a fish,” Jon said, pointing to a small dark darting thing.

Lovett glanced round behind them. The beach was spotted with so many blue umbrellas it was almost like a second sea, but then he saw Tanya’s orange swimsuit and a figure jumping up and down and waving that was definitely Elijah.

Lovett leaned up to Jon's ear. “If those deeply embarrassing people we employ weren’t tracking our every move...” he said.

“What then?” Jon said, his knuckles brushing against Lovett’s stomach. Lovett was not going to get hard in his swim shorts.

“If we were just two anonymous gays on Ocean Drive,” he said, and Jon ducked his head, laughing. “I would kiss you. That’s all.”

Lovett felt hot and breathless and foolish. Jon was smiling, hands dangling by his sides. He looked like he should be the lead in a Baywatch movie; it was impossible to look away from him.

“Let’s go further out,” Jon said.

They waded further, the sun hot on their backs, until the water was waist-height, and then Jon turned to scan the distant beach and the kids splashing around near them and grabbed Lovett’s shoulders and kissed him.

“Bet Tommy would be jealous if he knew,” Lovett said when he could finally bear to break away from Jon's mouth.

Jon flashed him a grin and dragged his hand through the water, splashing Lovett’s chest. “Jon!” Lovett yelped. He ducked and splashed Jon back, yelled, “ _Nope_!” and dove under the water, flailing; his mouth was open and the harsh salty taste flooded in immediately as he scrabbled towards something resembling front crawl. When he lifted his head out of the water, gasping, he could hear Jon's laughter still ringing out.

\---

It had been a weird year, obviously. People recognized Lovett in the street now. His dog was famous, as befitted her. He worked out. He sold underwear. He toured the country. Priorities shifted in strange ways when your worst person got elected president and you spent your days trying to face up to the consequences. But he truly hadn’t expected it, when Jon kissed him.  
  
They'd been over at Jon's place one Saturday evening, because Pundit had been restless and lonely and so had Lovett if he was honest. Jon had the TV on in the background and Lovett said "Enough of that shit," as soon as he came in, picked up the remote and turned it off. "Pay attention to me."

Jon turned to look at him expectantly. "You just came here to talk?"

Lovett hadn't planned this out. He _had_ wanted to see Jon, and he _hadn't_ wanted cable news on. "Yes," he said decisively. "Let's have beer."

So they'd ended up on the couch, the dogs sprawled out on the floor, and it was easy and good. Jon kept leaning in, brushing Lovett's arm, and an hour had stretched into two until Lovett found himself on his fourth beer, stretched out on his back. Jon was trying to sit like a normal person, although Lovett had Jon's thighs trapped under his legs. 

"Comfortable there?"

"Very," Lovett had said, far more confidently than he had felt. In fact, it had been strange to take liberties with Jon's body, to allow them to be in this much contact. Jon had rested his hands on Lovett's knees, while Lovett had wondered if his breathing was too loud. Why was his chest visibly moving? Could Jon hear? 

But then: “What if,” Jon had said, the corner of his mouth twitching up like it was a joke, and pulled Lovett up until he'd been half-sitting; Lovett had huffed in protest as Jon leaned in closer. Jon brushed his lips over Lovett's mouth and let him drop back down against the cushion. His eyes were trained on Lovett the whole time and Lovett had felt so astonished to be still there, in his body, as this happened to him, Jon’s lips touching his. Luckily he’d recovered from the shock enough quickly enough wriggle upright and grab hold of Jon, and after that, there was no going back.

\---

“Tommy!” Lovett said. “The sea is good.” He shook his head like a dog in Tommy’s direction.

“Lovett,” Tommy said grimly.

“Tommy, did you hear what I said? I said--”

“Did you have to bring the sea over here with you?” Tommy placed his book over his face. Secretly, he was the most overdramatic of all of them.

“The water’s so good, Tom,” Jon said.

Tommy shrugged. “I went to the gym this morning.”

“Jon and I saw a fish,” Lovett said enticingly.

Tommy sat up, letting the book drop onto his abs. “No way. A real live one?”

“Yeah, we had some exciting times,” Jon said. “And now I’m coated in sand.”

“Worth it, though.” Lovett lay down on the lounger vacated by Corinne, draped his damp towel over himself and cracked open a Diet Coke from the cooler. The first sip was perfect. “I like Miami.”

“Good for you,” Tommy said.

Jon, stooping to reach into his bag, said, “Wait, Tommy, you _don’t_?” Jon drew out a water bottle and straightened up, chugging deeply, his throat working.

“I - sure, no, I’m wiped but it’s been great.”

“Take a swim,” Lovett said. Tommy’s bad mood hadn’t evaporated out in the open air like everyone else’s had, he realized.

“Okay! Okay, fine. I will swim.” Tommy set his book down on his lounger and stood abruptly.

“You’ll be glad,” Jon called after him.

Tommy cut a lonely figure, making his way down past the gaggles of kids surrounding their sand construction projects and couples lying on top of each other. Lovett thought about Tommy seeing Jon and him go earlier. He stretched out a leg and poked Jon’s shin with his toe.  
Jon frowned at him. “What d’you think we did?”

“I think we--” Lovett made a gesture that he hoped was impenetrable to the people around him, while also conveying _started having sex, and now you keep looking at me in a particular way and I like it too much and Tommy’s not fucking blind_.

“Right,” Jon said. “Shit.”

\---

He and Jon and Tommy had needled at each other for as long as they’d known each other, more or less. That was the usual. But now that him blasting music from his phone to soundtrack Jon’s face journeys or Jon noting with interest every single time Pundit barked tended to lead to one of them following the other home and making good on all that tension, Lovett had a lot to reevaluate. He’d never had it so good. It was a fucking game changer.

Lovett had never been good at concealing his feelings in any way, shape or form, but he recognized the need for discretion, and so did Jon.

Anyway, Travis didn’t have a clue, and Travis was all up in everybody’s business, so by most people’s standards, they were doing a good job. And Lovett’s sexually fulfilling but occasionally inconvenient Pavlovian reaction to being teased by Jon which had developed in recent weeks might not have been a problem, were it confined to Jon.

It was not, though. It was a TommyandJon thing; it was the way Jon cut his eyes over to Tommy and the two of them laughed when Lovett slammed his hand down on his desk and made the stapler jump; and it was a TommyandLovett thing, when Tommy took his lunch order and placed it on top of a cabinet in the office kitchen so Lovett had to climb up on the countertop to retrieve his taco so he could wave it in Tommy’s fucking face.

 _You got one of them_ , his crazed traitor brain told him. _You could have the other. Tommy loves you too. Tommy could hold you up with one hand and fuck you so hard the furniture shook._

He’d relayed this to Jon, who had him spread open, face down on the mattress, working two fingers into Lovett. Jon had rolled him over and put his fingers back in at Lovett’s impatient, urgent moan. Jon was red-faced and breathing hard. “You want that,” Jon had said.

“ _You_ want that,” Lovett had said.

Jon had fumbled with the condom, his fingers shaking. “Yeah,” he said, lining himself up and pushing into Lovett all at once, "I wanna see him split you open. Wanna see you taking his dick, he could - he could do both of us, like this."

So that was clear, at least. 

\---

Tommy slid into the seat next to Tanya when they piled into the van to head back to the hotel, and Lovett gingerly took the seat next to Jon. He felt horribly obvious.

“We fucked up,” he whispered.

Jon leaned in close, his shoulder knocking against Lovett’s. “We were gonna tell him.”

“Right,” Lovett hissed, “but--”

He craned his neck around suspiciously and pulled out his phone.

 **Jon Lovett:** _but we didn’t_

 **Jon Favreau:** _so we will now_

 **Jon Lovett:** _NOW?_

 **Jon Favreau:** _tonight_

 **Jon Lovett:** _sure, why not, now seems as good a time as any_  
_let’s announce it to all our employees_

 **Jon Favreau:** _we’ll take him for dinner_

 **Jon Lovett:** _team, we have a threesome invite that we’d like to extend_

 **Jon Favreau:** _and we’ll just say it_

 **Jon Lovett:** _not to just any of you though_  
_to a special someone_  
_actually, let’s open it up to the floor - who do you think we talk about while we fuck?_  
_Travis it’s not you_

 **Jon Favreau:** _any thoughts, Lovett?_  
_counter proposals?_

 **Jon Lovett:** _can it be somewhere less public?_  
_so it’s less embarrassing if he walks out_

 **Jon Favreau:** _he won’t do that_  
_It’s Tommy_  
_I want to show that we’re serious_

 **Jon Lovett:** _okay_

 **Jon Favreau** : _I think I really want to tell him actually_  
_you know, we kissed once_

 **Jon Lovett:** _yes_  
_it was 2007 and you were drunk in your Chicago frat house and it’s been seared into your memory ever since_  
_I know because you’ve told me about it at least fifteen times_

 **Jon Favreau:** _right._

 **Jon Lovett:** _the first four I thought you were just trying successfully to make me jealous but then I realized you had a giant embarrassing crush_  
_the challenge is to get you naked without you bringing up Tommy Vietor_

Jon laughed softly and nudged his elbow into Lovett’s side. Lovett stared down determinedly at his phone screen.

 **Jon Lovett:** _I’m scared to tell him._  
_if you hadn’t kissed me I never would’ve made the first move_  
_you were NOT visibly gay and you did NOT telegraph your intent_

 **Jon Favreau:** _I flirted with you so fucking much_

 **Jon Lovett:** _STILL NOT CONVINCED_

Beside him, Jon let out a small, irritable huff.

 **Jon Favreau:** _don’t try that insecure bullshit._  
_okay not the point_

 **Jon Lovett:** _I’M CONVINCED NOW_  
_I’M CONVINCED BY YOU_

 **Jon Favreau:** _oh, he’s breaking out the capslock_  
_don’t glare a hole in your phone_

 **Jon Lovett:** _I’M NOT CONVINCED THAT WHAT YOU THOUGHT WAS FLIRTING IN 2017 WAS ANY DIFFERENT FROM OUR REGULAR INTERACTIONS IN THE PRECEDING YEARS WHICH WERE NOT FLIRTATIOUS ENOUGH TO SIGNAL GENUINE INTENT!_  
_not the point._

Beside him, Jon was also typing hurriedly. Lovett breathed out slowly and tried not to peek over at Jon’s phone screen too obviously.

 **Jon Favreau:** _it might not go the way we want it and I hate thinking about that but Tommy is your best friend and my best friend and he’s an adult so we can withstand the awkwardness if he turns us down_

 **Jon Lovett:** _look, you’re right and I don’t think he’d be threatened and honestly it’s an attractive pitch but it’s not the whole truth, is it_  
_“we’re dating now and we want to have a relationship with you” isn’t “will you spitroast Jon Lovett with me”_  
_though that certainly belongs within this larger truth_

 **Jon Favreau:** _I think they’re both winning messages_

 **Jon Lovett:** _I don’t know how you can talk about it this lightly unless you’ve never had your heart broken_

 **Jon Favreau:** _I have. It scares me. I’m talking myself into it since you won’t help. This is how you take the risk._

 **Jon Lovett:** _I hate that he’s not talking to us much right now_

 **Jon Favreau** : _he’s not talking to us because we’re lying and hiding our relationship from him_

 **Jon Lovett:** _I know! Not great._  
_I’m gonna be brave_  
_I promise I will_  
_but garbled confession is more my style than a joint seduction over wine and four courses_

Jon’s hand slid over and squeezed his thigh.

 **Jon Favreau:** _that’s fine_  
_tbh I think I’m gonna freeze up and forget everything I wanted to say_

 **Jon Lovett:** _imagine if we could be this emotionally honest while talking verbally_

 **Jon Favreau:** _WE CAN, YOU MORON_

 **Jon Lovett:** _I think this works well, actually_  
_I’m going to send you a weekly email on the state of our relationship_  
_I’m going to force you to argue silently with me over text_  
_I think it restrains my worst impulses_

Beside him, Jon shook with what might have been laughter but might also have been spasms of annoyance.

 **Jon Favreau:** _hmmm._

“Hey.” Tommy’s voice. “Cool kids in the back row glued to your phones? We’re here.”

Lovett jerked his head up and stuffed his phone into his pocket. Jon’s hand was still resting on his thigh. “Cool!” he said.

Tommy stared at them, and Lovett looked over to his right at Jon, his strained smile, and took in the state of the two of them. Tommy was right: they looked like schoolboys caught in the act.

Tommy shrugged and grunted and swung his bag over his shoulder. “See you in a bit,” he said, and turned, made his way out of the van.

Lovett shoved his seatbelt off. “You’re right,” he said. “We have to tell him.”

“You should go do it now,” Jon muttered. “Ask him to dinner.”

“Just me?”

“Yeah. Tell him seven. At the hotel. I’ll book.”

“Okay,” Lovett said, grabbing his bag, his towel and his jacket from the pile he’d made on the seat next to him. This was happening. They were really doing this. He glanced quickly over his shoulder and out of the windows - the driver had already left, a few of the team were still standing around outside, chatting - and leaned over Jon, who was still in his seat, braced a hand on his shoulder and kissed him quickly.

“Good luck,” Jon said. “I love you.”

Lovett drew back, his hand still resting on Jon’s shoulder, leaning over him. Jon widened his eyes and reddened rapidly in the two seconds of silence that followed. Lovett should say something, but he was loath to fill this space between them when those words were ringing in his ears, but Jon looked worried, now, tilted his head down -

“Yes,” Lovett said. “You - you too, Jon.”

He kissed Jon again. Jon grinned up at him, his head tilted to one side, melting with affection aimed at nobody except Lovett.

“I love you,” Lovett said. “Take your damn seatbelt off. I have to go ask Tommy on a date. I’ll see you later.”

 _I love you_ , he thought.

Weird.

Good, though.

He hurried out onto the sidewalk and through the revolving doors into the hotel, hoping he caught Tommy before Tommy shut himself in his room to mope or insult people on the internet.

\---

It wasn’t asking Tommy out, Lovett told himself. It was asking Tommy if he wanted to get dinner, which he’d done a million times. If you had romantic intent but you were actively concealing it, it should be possible to trick the brain into considering it a regular friend interaction, and if he could pull this off and secure Tommy’s presence then the charm offensive would come later. At which point he definitely wouldn’t be sweaty-palmed and feeling the adrenaline equivalent of the queasy rush he got from three diet cokes in quick succession, like he was now.

“Hey Tommy,” Lovett said, very casually. “Me and Jon are having dinner at the hotel restaurant in an hour or so, you coming?” He wished he had something to lean against, or a chair to curl up in. Instead, he’d found Tommy waiting for the elevator next to a group of businessmen in suits. He took a moment to feel intensely grateful that wasn't his path. 

“Here?” Tommy looked around at the lobby of the InterContinental: the polished stone flooring, the weird, bulgy rock sculpture around which people gathered, staring at their phones, to wait for their companions. “Kinda expensive, isn’t it?”

“So’s room service. Anyway, maybe I want to eat something foamed. I’ll see you there at seven? Jon’s booking a table for three.”

“He’s booking a table?”

“Yes. Your presence is requested.” The elevator pinged to announce its arrival and Lovett stepped in as soon as the doors opened and shoved his thumb gratefully over the button for their floor. Tommy was silent beside him as they went up. Lovett set his jaw and thought, _you’re not alone. Jon’s with you. This is the plan._

Their rooms were on the same corridor, Tommy’s a few doors down the hallway from Lovett’s. Tommy was still quiet as they made their way along.

“It’s just dinner,” Lovett said.

He stopped outside his door to rummage in his pocket for his keycard and found that Tommy was still standing there behind him, his hands shoved in the pockets of his shorts. Tommy looked sad, and tired. His neck was sunburnt.

“Lovett, I know already,” Tommy said. “It’s cool, okay? I’m glad.”

“You know--”

“About you and Jon. You don’t have to do a big announcement, or feel guilty.”

“It’s not that,” Lovett said quickly. “That’s not what this is, I promise.”

Tommy glared dubiously at him and folded his arms over his chest. “I saw you,” he said tightly.

“Okay, it’s that! But - come, okay? We really want to talk to you about something.” Jon squeezed his hands together, digging his fingers into his knuckles. Weren’t they supposed to be seducing Tommy? This didn’t feel like that.

“For the record,” Tommy said, “I’m not stupid. We hang out all the time. I’m so fucking happy for you! This is a really cool thing.” Being congratulated had never made Lovett feel this shitty and undeserving before. Tommy’s voice was hard, the corners of his mouth turned down in an angry sneer. “And if I don’t sound happy it’s because you apparently decided to hide it from me, your best friend, but really badly? So I can see you - so I can see you don’t trust me. Sorry to be so fucking overdramatic. That’s all that bothers me.”

“Tommy, I’m sorry,” Lovett said in a rush, his voice small, hoping it didn’t come out defensive. “We were figuring some things out, and we - fuck, I wish Jon was here. Please come to dinner? Or if you don’t, we - Jon wants to apologize too. So we should talk anyway.”

Tommy closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to the sides of his face, rubbing small circles. It looked like he was trying to keep the hurt from spilling out, but Lovett could see it anyway, and he’d caused it. He knew how it felt when close friends began relationships and suddenly didn’t seem to have any affection to spare for you. He knew how ugly jealousy made you feel. The selfishly hopeful part of him said that he could give this to Tommy. He wanted to. Jon wanted to. And another voice told him that if Tommy felt like they were being bad friends, an awkward offer of sex and romantic companionship might make the whole thing infinitely worse.

“Okay,” Tommy said, and he sounded fine again; it was very nearly convincing. “Thanks. I appreciate it. I’m just gonna - decompress, a little, take a shower and wash this sand out of my ass and then I’ll be myself again in time for dinner. Seven, right?”

“Seven, downstairs, by the rock sculpture thing. Dress nice.” Lovett flicked his eyes over Tommy’s t-shirt and shorts.

Tommy blinked at him. “Right. See you then.”

He left Lovett standing outside his door, staring blankly at the wall where Tommy had been standing.

\---

They agreed that Jon would arrive ten minutes early, so he could apologize to Tommy and do his charming thing, and Lovett would arrive five minutes late, in classically endearing Lovett fashion, and then they would make sure Tommy had a good time. Which meant that it was 7:02 and Lovett was hiding behind a large stone pillar and rehearsing various approaches.

So he didn’t have any good lines. That was fine. He would wing it.

This was suspicious. He couldn’t remain behind the pillar.

He fiddled with his shirt collar and crossed the lobby to the restaurant.

“Table for three? Jon Favreau? My friends are already here, I think.”

The restaurant was all warm colors, the ebb and flow of chatter, wait staff making their way smoothly between the tables. Lovett, freshly showered in his shirt and jeans, was underdressed. He hadn’t planned for _this_ when packing to go on tour.

Their table was tucked in a corner by the window, the city lights twinkling and beyond that the velvet darkness of the sea.

“Lovett!” Jon said. He and Tommy were sitting opposite each other; Lovett scanned the two remaining chairs and then slid in next to Tommy. Better for arm... touching. Perhaps. Leg brushing. Regular seduction techniques.

“Hey,” Tommy said. He gave Lovett a small smile. Tommy was also wearing a crumpled dress shirt. It seemed that none of them had packed classy datewear. He still looked good. “Jon tells me you two have an announcement. But he assures me it doesn’t involve marriage, adoption or quitting our company to move abroad, so I have no idea what he’s referring to.”

“Less of an announcement, more of... a proposal,” Lovett said carefully.

“You want me to film it?”

“No!” Lovett yelped. “No one’s getting married. I wouldn’t - you don’t begin a _marriage proposal_ by saying I have a proposal, Tommy. We’ve only been dating for five weeks!”

“Huh,” Tommy said. “That checks out, I guess.”

“So...” Jon said, leaning across the table towards them. “It was that obvious?” Jon had ironed his shirt, and the top three buttons were undone. Lovett glanced nervously over at Tommy, but Tommy didn’t appear angry. The power of Jon’s smile was truly unreasonable. Lovett knew this from being unfortunately susceptible to it himself.

“Well, you kinda threw caution to the wind in Miami. But before that, not really. I thought I was imagining things. For some weird reason.”

“Did you ever wonder?” Jon said. “Did you ever think about me and Lovett, that we might...”

“Hook up?” Tommy pulled a face and shrugged. “I mean, I... was taken aback. When I realized that was happening now. Is there a reason? That you’re asking?”

Jon bit his lip and frowned. Lovett felt something bump against his toe and realized it was Jon, kicking him.

“Tommy,” he said. “There is a reason.”

“Okay,” Tommy said. “Are you gonna tell me? Also, are we gonna order? I’m pretty hungry. I think I might try the swordfish dip. Is that too extravagant?”

“So many questions, my goodness,” Lovett said, stalling, opening his menu up.

“Yeah,” Tommy said, more sharply. “I do have a few, actually.”

Lovett looked over at Jon for guidance. Jon shrugged helplessly and moved his hands in circles, a _keep going_ gesture.

“Hm,” Lovett said. “The empanadas sound good. We should have drinks, right? Tommy, how about I get to ask you a question, and then you get to ask me and Jon one. But we have to be honest.”

“Just one?” Tommy said.

“And then maybe more, if we feel like we’re enjoying honesty hour.”

“Honesty hour,” Jon murmured. “That’s good. What’s your question, Lovett?”

Lovett took a sip of water and wished he had wine instead. “I,” he said. “Ah. Do you, have you ever, in the time I’ve known you, thought about...” Tommy had turned his chair to face Lovett, their knees pressed against each other. “Would you spitroast a guy?” Lovett said. “Would you do that?”

Across from him, Jon started.

Tommy was making eye contact with Lovett: it was the full, pale-eyed, pink-cheeked Vietor stare. It was unnerving. “Like, giving, not receiving?” Tommy said.

“Yes,” Lovett said. “For the purposes of the question.”

“But, any guy in particular?” Tommy said.

“The question didn’t stipulate,” Lovett managed.

“Sure,” Tommy said, with a half-laughing grimace. “That’s hot, right? What guy doesn’t have that in his jerk-off repertoire?”

“A straight one, maybe,” Lovett said. He saw Tommy swallow. “I mean, the man part is important here. Bodies aren’t interchangeable. The act was - just an example, Tommy, it doesn’t have to be that--”

A waitress came over to their table, and Jon shook his head, waved her away.

“Is it my question now?” Tommy said.

“Can I say something first?” They both turned to look at Jon. “Do you remember in 2007, when we were living in the pad, and the guys were out, and we were sharing a bottle of - something, and I spilled some on the floor, and you said I had to lick it up? And then... I did, and. We were, we were both hard, and we didn’t talk about it?” Jon was flushed; he’d picked up a fork and was rubbing his thumb compulsively over the tines. “I was actually going to talk about, like, how much we both like you as, not as a friend, but Lovett picked, uh, just wildly inappropriate oversharing about our fantasies involving you, I guess.”

“You didn’t tell me that one,” Lovett said. “I thought you were going to bring up the kiss. Tommy, please don’t leave. I - There was a conversational fork, and I took the route of wildly inappropriate oversharing, as I tend to do in conversations that I find very stressful with people whose opinion matters to me a lot but although you probably can never erase this from your memory, we can - also be normal, good friends. If you would like.”

He could see it behind his eyes: Jon, sprawled out on the floor, looking up, his eyes dark, and getting to his knees, sticking his _tongue_ out, doing what Tommy said.

He could see Jon, seated opposite him, pushing his knuckles over his mouth and almost hunching into himself

Lovett reached out a hand and grabbed Jon’s. “That’s hot,” he said firmly. “That’s so hot I pretty much can’t see straight.”

Jon let out a choked laugh.

“Uh,” Tommy said. “Yeah, I remember. So, this is the proposal?”

“Yes?” Lovett said. “Is it? We didn’t plan this well but I, uh, anticipated it would be more, _Tommy, we have feelings for you and hope you might want to be more than friends_ and less, _Tommy, put your dick down my throat_ \--”

To his left, Lovett heard a polite cough.

“Are you ready to order, sirs?” the waiter said.

“I’m really sorry,” Tommy said. “I’m really really sorry, but we’re not ordering. We have to go now.”

\---

The elevator had mirrored walls on three sides, so whichever way Lovett turned, he could see Jon and Tommy kissing. If he looked at it from the right angle, he could see one of those mirrored tunnels: Tommy’s hand on Jon’s neck, Jon gasping into Tommy’s mouth, repeated over and over and shrinking into nothingness. Lovett felt like he’d wandered into a crazy dream, one where he was surrounded by everything he wanted, so bright and right there and touchable, almost too much to take.

“Come here, Lovett,” Tommy said roughly. Lovett stepped up behind him, wrapped his arms around Tommy’s waist and pressed his forehead against Tommy's back. He touched his lips to Tommy’s shirt collar. Tommy twisted round, and they found themselves face to face, breathing hot into each other’s mouths.

Jon rested his chin on Tommy’s shoulder, so Lovett could stretch up and kiss Jon’s lips too, wet and kiss-bitten from where Tommy had been seconds earlier, swipe his tongue desperately into Jon’s mouth.

The elevator pinged.

“This is our floor,” Jon said.

“What if we stayed here and fucked in this elevator for the rest of our lives,” Lovett suggested.

“Mmm,” Tommy said. “Tempting, but I have some other ideas.”

The doors slid open, and they stumbled out into the corridor, the soft lighting, each other’s arms.


End file.
